Sometimes I look at Bar Refaeli and think she can't possibly be real, then I look at Bar Refaeli almost entirely nekkid and I know she's not real. How can so much hotness be actually contained in one human body? More like a magical nymph perhaps, only existing in the minds of hopeful oglers everywhere.
In the July edition of Elle France, Bar goes where everyman has gone before imagining her, that is, minus her clothes, sadly deftly maneuvering her paws to cover up her last remaining spots we'd really love to see, but still wicked wicked hot.
Bar is so hot, if I saw her kicking a basket full of kittens, I'd ask if I could massage her sore foot when she was done. Enjoy.